Boxing Day
by Labyrinth01
Summary: Brenda stopped at nothing in "Next of Kin" to get a confession. How does she cope with Wesley's death and an unexpected Christmas with Grady? Season 3
1. Chapter 1

Boxing Day

PART ONE

Fritz was relieved to hear his cell phone ring, as odd as it was to welcome an intrusion on Christmas Eve. He had been waiting for Brenda to call him ever since they talked briefly early this morning, and she told him her division was covering a potential bank robbery based on information given to her by Wesley. Fritz didn't say anything, because it always made Brenda mad when he acted overprotective, but he was worried. PHD was not trained in tactical maneuvers, and why Pope allowed them to be on site for a potential bank robbery was beyond him. Of course, Fritz didn't have a lot of respect for many of Will Pope's decisions, so that was nothing new.

He answered his cell on the third ring, quickly checking to make sure it was Brenda who was calling him. It was. He dispensed with pleasantries. "Honey, did everything go OK? You all right?"

Brenda ignored his questions. "I need you to get Momma and meet me at the Fairfield Mall," she said.

Fritz frowned. "What are you talking about? Brenda, what happened with the robbery? You can't leave me hanging here."

He heard her sigh on the other line. He knew that she was stalling so she could figure out her story. Despite their big fight about honesty and trust, he knew that Brenda still crafted the truth to fit the situation. He had hoped that her admission that she had a tendency to lie might change this behavior, but watching her over the past week, during their tumultuous trip from Atlanta to LA, he noticed that not much had changed.

"Dammit, Brenda, I have been worried about you all day. Will you answer me, the whole truth, please?" Fritz was getting impatient.

Brenda sighed again, but started talking fast, little inflection in her voice. "Wesley did give us correct information on the bank that was going to get hit. As soon as his accomplices jumped out of a car with their semi-automatics and started to yell at the guards to get down, Wesley popped out of goodness knows where and shot them both to death." Her voice was flat, but Fritz knew her well enough to tell she was struggling for control. After a brief pause, she started again. "Wesley surrendered to me right away, but when he put his hands in the air, one of the Tass guards pulled his gun and shot him three times." Her voice caught ever so slightly. "He was dead by the time the ambulance arrived. I then had to stand in Pope's office and get yelled at for an hour for botching the entire operation with Taylor smirking in the corner. Shit." She sounded so tired.

Fritz didn't know what to say. He had very mixed feelings about how Brenda had treated Wesley, and couldn't help but wonder if her lie to Wesley about Grady being killed lead to today's events. "I'm sorry, Brenda," he said softly.

She seemed to recover a bit. "So I need to have you and Mamma meet me at the mall in 30 minutes." She was back to being her businesslike self, putting her emotions in that deep, dark, part of herself no one ever saw. Except me, Fritz thought, on very rare occasions. Too rare.

"The mall—what? Do you want to do some retail therapy or something?" What crazy idea did Brenda have now?

"I realized, when I was trying to tune out Will today, that we don't have any Christmas presents for Grady. And at some point, I have to tell him his brother is dead, so the least we can do is make sure he has a good Christmas. Mamma's a real good shopper, and you are a guy, so you could help pick out boy-things. I'm not too sure I would do too well on my own. So Fritzy, please, meet me at the mall with Momma, OK?" Brenda had a note of desperation in her voice that concerned Fritz. She needed to do this, to give Grady a good Christmas, as her way of making up for everything that had happened, Fritz realized. Brenda wasn't big on guilt, or admitting that she ever feels guilty about anything, but he could sense that Wesley's death was bothering her immensely. If Christmas gifts are going to make her feel better, than so be it.

"Okay Brenda, I will gather your mother and we will meet you at the front entrance of the mall as soon as we can, depending on traffic."

"Oh Fritzy, thank you," she breathed, and then hung up the phone.

Fritz sat on the bed and stared at his cell phone. There was so much that needed to be discussed, processed, analyzed, about how recent events affected them, and the first moment they had an opportunity to talk, he had to go shopping with her. And her mother. He needed to tell her he was angry, and hurt, and disappointed, and a thousand other things that he didn't have a name for, because he couldn't stand walking around feeling angry at her. He rather have a big teary fight, make up, and then go back to loving her with every fiber of his being. He wanted to look at her beautiful face and worship her, instead of thinking how cold her eyes got when she poured drink after drink for Wesley. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Big, cathartic fights were not going to happen for awhile, since Brenda is determined to give Grady his dream Christmas, and yelling and storming out really didn't go with decking the halls. It was going to have to wait a few days, and he hated the thought. He felt the "mad at Brenda" stomach twinge he had grown to recognize over the years as he put his cell phone away and walked out of the bedroom in search of Willie Rae.

In the car, Willie Rae asked what happened with Wesley. Fritz knew that Willie Rae was aware that Wesley had dumped his wire, but nothing else. Fritz didn't want to worry her with the information Brenda gave him that morning on PHD's job of intervening in a bank robbery, and he felt that it was Brenda's responsibility to tell her mother that Wesley killed two people, and then was killed himself. He had done enough explaining to Clay and Willie Ray on Brenda's behalf, and he didn't want to do it again.

Yesterday had been rough. Brenda insisted that she, Flynn, and Provenza be dropped off at work immediately, pulling some dress clothes out of her suitcase and throwing them on before the RV arrived at Parker Center. The RV was pulling up in front of their house not much later when Fritz remembered that Grady was staying there, and the Johnsons' thought he was dead. He had Willie Rae park the RV in front, and then asked to speak to both of them before they gathered their luggage. He told them that Brenda had lied to get a confession out of Wesley, and that Grady was perfectly fine and staying at Brenda's house so he wouldn't be put in foster care. Grady knew nothing about Wesley being arrested in Atlanta and charged with murder, and it should stay that way until Brenda can talk to him. Fritz spoke as calmly as possible, his insides broiling that he had to be the one to tell Brenda's parents the truth. Willie Rae put her hand to her mouth while tears rolled down her face, and Clay was so furious that Fritz was a little bit afraid of what he would do when he saw Brenda next. "Son of a bitch!" Clay yelled, jumping up and slapping the wall so hard Fritz was surprised he didn't leave a dent. "What the devil is wrong with that girl? Tellin' a man his brother was killed like that? I just can't believe her." His face was slowly turning redder and redder.

"Mr. Johnson, I think you have to understand, in Brenda's line of work, sometimes you have to do things that don't seem very nice in order to get a confession. She only does things like that when the end justifies the means, like when she is afraid more people will die." His explanation seemed weak, even to his own ears, and a new wave of Brenda-anger washed over him. I should not be the one explaining this, he thought.

Clay seemed not to have heard him. "Willie Rae, where did we go wrong with her? That she grows up and treats people like this? The boys turned out just fine, got good jobs and nice families, and our little girl makes a livin' leaning over dead bodies and lyin' to people. Did we spoil her to much, Willie Rae, because she was the only girl? What happened?" Clay ran his hand over his bald head in frustration.

Willie Rae wiped her eyes and looked at her husband. "Clay, we didn't go wrong, honey. Brenda is just…unusual. She wants different things than most women. That's how she is, and I just accepted that about her a long time ago, still lovin' her and proud to be her mother. But I have to agree with you, I just can't understand how she could have lied to Wesley about his brother, and how she could lie to us." Willie Rae shook her head. "I'm having a hard time justifying that one. I hate to say this about my baby girl, but sometimes she seems…ruthless." Fresh tears sprung to Willie Rae's eyes.

Clay took Willie Rae's hand and sat down next to her. Fritz thought it was a good idea for him to excuse himself and give them some time alone. He wanted to see what was going on in the house, and prepare Grady for meeting Brenda's parents. He had a feeling that they would hit it off, but he wanted to meet Grady first and see how anxious he was for news of his brother. Here come more lies, a more complicated web, Fritz thought, as he pulled his and Brenda's suitcase from under the RV.

"Fritz?" Willie Rae said, looking over with raised eyebrows. "Is there something you don't want to tell me? About Wesley? Or anything that happened?" What a perceptive woman, Fritz thought. No wonder where Brenda got her investigative skills.

Fritz made a decision, one he thought was fair in light of all the explaining he had to do lately on Brenda's behalf. "It's not that I don't want to tell you, Willie Rae, it's just that I think it would come better from Brenda. She could give you the whole story."

Willie Rae nodded and, to Fritz's surprise, didn't ask any more questions. Something Brenda didn't inherit was her mother's sense of when to back away.

Brenda's mother was quiet for awhile, looking out the window at the passing cityscape. After a few minutes, she turned and looked at Fritz and said softly, "Fritz, is she hard to love?"

Fritz took his eyes off the road and glanced over at Willie Rae. Her brow was furrowed, as if she was thinking about something very hard. He remembered her defense of Brenda's upbringing yesterday when she had heard about Grady being alive, and he wondered if she shared some of Clay's doubts about how Brenda turned out, as if she was worried that she had somehow raised a daughter that was unlovable. He was glad Brenda wasn't present to here her mother's question, because it would devastate her.

Fritz sighed. "No, Brenda is very lovable. I think I fell in love with her over ten years ago, when we worked together in DC and were just friends. One of the happiest days of my life was when I learned that she moved to LA. The most happy day of my life was when she accepted my marriage proposal. She means the world to me. Willie Rae, why do you ask?"

Willie Rae cleared her throat. "I love my daughter, you know that, Fritz." He nodded. "But sometimes, well, I don't think she treats you very nicely, and that bothers me, a lot. You always seem to be so patient with her. And with her draggin' you out to Atlanta, making you go along with her lyin', which I just know you don't like, well, it makes me wonder. It must be hard for you sometimes."

Fritz chose his next words carefully. "No, it isn't hard to love Brenda. I would crawl to the ends of the earth for her on my knees if she asked me to." He smiled. "But Brenda can be hard to be with. She is the most brilliant, beautiful, and complicated person I have ever known. We have been together for three years, and there are days where I feel like I have hardly cracked the surface, barely know what lies in her heart. But I do know this, without a doubt: Brenda is an intensely compassionate person. Her compassion doesn't look like other people's, I know, but she has a heart of gold. She does what she does for a living because she wants justice for the victims, and she wants to bring closure to the families. She cares, intensely. The thing is, when she has a case, she is so determined to solve it and get that closure that she puts blinders on and just can't see anything or anyone else. That's what you saw on the trip from Atlanta, Brenda's determination to solve these robberies so no more guards got killed, because if she didn't, she would hold herself responsible. It's just that seeing her techniques, up close, for four days in the RV, well, I'm sure that didn't make her look too good to you and Mr. Johnson." He paused. "When she goes into that mode, I just step back and let her do her job. I knew her before we were a couple, and so her tenacity on a case was not a surprise to me. I knew what I was getting myself in to. I just wait until the case is closed and then she lands back on earth and notices me. And she loves me too, I know, possibly because I am the only man in her life that has given her the space to be, well, to be Brenda."

Willie Rae reached out her hand and put it on top of his, which was resting on the gear shift. "She is a very lucky woman to have a man like you," she said, squeezing his hand. "Very, very lucky."

Fritz spotted Brenda standing at the front of the mall as he drove up and down the isles looking for a parking spot. He lucked out as a harried-looking woman laden with packages pulled out of a spot fairly close to the mall. He helped Willie Rae get out of the car, and then they walked toward the entrance.

The closer Fritz got, the more awful he thought Brenda looked. She was wearing her brown "comfort sweater," but it was buttoned incorrectly and one of her shoulders was peeking out. Her hair was a mess, and she wasn't wearing lipstick. Her lower lip looked chapped, which he thought might be a result of her habit of chewing her lip a bit to heartily. Her eye makeup was smeared and her eyes looked unfocused. She reminded him of the night she came home after being involved in a shooting, covered with blood and jumpy as hell. As angry as he was with her, he wanted to pull her into his arms and have her bury her face in his chest. But he knew from her stiff posture and her arms wrapped around each other that she wouldn't welcome his embrace, not now, anyway.

Willie Rae noticed Brenda's disheveled appearance too. She let go of Fritz's arm and walked hurriedly toward Brenda. "Honey, what is wrong with you? You look awful." She rested her arm on Brenda's, and Fritz noticed the almost imperceptible jerk.

"Bad day is all, Momma."

Willie Rae left her hand on Brenda's upper arm and said in a soft voice, "Brenda, what happened with Wesley? Is he OK? Grady has been asking for him all day."

Brenda quickly looked at Fritz, eyebrows raised, questioning. She was clearly surprised that Fritz hadn't told her mother what had happened. Fritz returned her stare, sternly shaking his head no. This one's on you, Brenda Leigh, he thought.

Brenda turned her attention back to her mother, and there, on Christmas Eve, amongst last-minute shoppers and canned Christmas carols, Brenda told her about the three murders she had witnessed earlier that day. When she was done speaking, Willie Rae was quiet, but had tears in her eyes. Brenda straightened her spine even more and stared at the ground as if preparing for an attack. Fritz knew from Willie Rae that they had had words the night before about Brenda's treatment of Wesley, and Brenda looked for all the world like she expected to be blamed for his death by her mother. Fritz's heart went out to her, standing outside the mall looking like a mess, clearly expecting the people she loved to hold her responsible for Wesley's death just like Will Pope did. Or like she blamed herself, perhaps.

Instead, Willie Rae said, "Wesley shot two people? In cold blood?" Brenda nodded. "And you were with him when he died?" She nodded again. Willie Rae ran the back of her hand across her eyes. "What a day for you, honey. And to think that you could actually worry about Grady havin' a good Christmas. That's amazin'." Brenda exhaled, and her eyes closed briefly in relief. Willie Rae became all business. "Well, let's get started so we can get you home. I think that a young man that age should have a nice suit, don't you? Fritz, let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Brenda, Willie Rae, and Fritz returned home several hours later, Fritz's car loaded down with bags, boxes, wrapping paper, and groceries. Fritz had announced that he made reservations for Christmas day brunch at the Casa Del Mar hotel in Santa Monica in hopes that Willie Rae wouldn't feel pressured into making a big Christmas dinner. Instead, she insisted on stopping to buy ingredients "for a real Southern Christmas Eve supper." They ended up having to go to three different grocery stores to find collard greens, but Willie Rae was determined to cook the perfect meal. "And Christmas cookies!" she exclaimed as she marched down an isle. "It can't be Christmas Eve without cookies!" Fritz was left pushing the cart, trying to keep up with Willie Rae as he wondered how someone her age could have so much energy. Brenda lagged behind Fritz, and, just as she did at the mall, let her mother take the lead and spoke only when spoken to. He was starting to feel as exhausted as Brenda looked, and Fritz almost fell to his knees and cried for joy when the elusive collard greens were found, so they could all go home.

"Fritz, will you take the groceries into the house, and Brenda and I will start wrapping presents in the RV? And come and join us when you're done, please, we need all the hands we can get." Willie Rae handed Brenda several large shopping bags which she dutifully carried them into the RV, followed closely by Willie Rae, who was talking nonstop.

When Fritz carried the groceries into the house, he found Mr. Johnson and Grady on the couch watching football and carrying on a lively debate of who was the better Southern writer, Flannery O'Connor or Eudora Welty. Fritz watched them for a second, thinking how much they seemed like grandfather and grandson.

"Hi Fritz!" Grady called from the living room. "Is Brenda with you? I was just wonderin' if she's heard from Wesley at all yet." Fritz busied himself stuffing the large ham into a tight shelf in the fridge in order to avoid having to look at Grady. "She's spending some time with her mom right now, Grady, she will be here around dinner time. You can talk to her about it then, OK?" Fritz had wedged in the ham and had no reason to keep staring into the fridge, so he and turned around and looked at Grady. Grady had a fleeting look of disappointment cross his face that made Fritz's heart hurt, but then smiled. "Hey Fritz, do y'all happen to have a chess board anywhere? Mr. Johnson said that he's as good as they come, but I don't think he has it in him to beat me." He turned and grinned at Clay.

"Son, you have a lot to learn about humility," Clay said, chuckling. I've been playing chess since way before you were even a twinkle in your momma's eye. You think I'm gonna let some cocky teenager beat me at my own game?" Fritz isn't sure he had ever seen Clay so cheerful. "So what about it, Fritz, you and Brenda have a chessboard somewhere around?"

Fritz paused for a second. "You know what, I do. Out in the garage, in one of my boxes. Give me a few minutes and I will go find it for you two."

"Do you play?" asked Grady.

"Not really," Fritz shook his head. "I learned a long time ago, but never kept it up. My brother Karl got the chess set for me for Christmas a few years ago, and I haven't ever used it. I think I know what box it's in, so it shouldn't take me too long to find it." Fritz put the last of the produce in the fridge and headed out to the garage. As he left, he heard Clay say, "that man moved in with my little girl, and he has to keep all his stuff in the garage. And he puts up with it. The man's whipped, I'll tell ya. Brenda can do that to any man." Both Clay and Grady laughed. Fritz felt annoyed at Clay for classifying him as "whipped." He knew he was whipped, but he hated to admit it, and felt embarrassed that his future father-in-law thought so too. Whatever, Fritz thought, as he squatted down to read the labels on the boxes stacked on the floor of the garage. If I'm so whipped, how come I have wanted to strangle Brenda pretty much every day this week?

Fritz found the chess set quickly and handed it off to Clay and Grady, who were delighted. He headed back out to the RV to help with the wrapping. When he walked in, he almost stepped on several presents. The entire floor of the RV, and every surface, was covered with bows, ribbon, several types of wrapping paper, and shopping bags. "Careful!" Brenda warned, looking up at him. "You almost stepped in my 'done' pile." She returned her attention to the clothing box wrapped in a garish gold and red paper on which she was attempting some type of fancy ribbon bow. She kept running the scissors along the ribbon in attempts to make it curl, but instead the ribbon just became more and more threadbare. She threw her scissors down in frustration. "Momma, I can't do one of those fancy bows like you want me to! Why couldn't we just buy some of those stick-on bows and be done with it?" She crossed her arms and glared at her mother.

"Brenda Leigh, those premade bows are just plain tacky. And the Johnsons don't do Christmas tacky," said Willie Rae. Fritz pictured their overdecorated gaudy Atlanta home and barely stifled a laugh. "I never gave you or the boys presents with cheap bows on them, I made them all by hand, and you and I are gonna do the same for Grady." She frowned at Brenda, who was in full pout mode. "Well aren't you just a Southern Martha Stewart," Brenda said under her breath, just loud enough for Willie Rae to hear it.

"Hey Brenda," Fritz said, feeling very protective of Willie Rae, "be nice to your mother, will you? She's worked hard all day to make sure it is going to be a great Christmas, so the least you can do is be respectful." Brenda looked up at him in shock. Fritz was able to push his Brenda-anger to the back of his mind most of the day, once he saw what a wreck she was at the mall. But she had a lot of nerve giving her mother a hard time, after Willie Rae has sacrificed her Christmas in Florida with her grandchildren to help Brenda out of another mess. Sometimes he wanted to shake Brenda to make her stop taking people for granted, him especially, to look around and see what the rest of the world was up to once in awhile. Anger flared hot in his stomach as he looked fiercely at her.

To his surprise, Brenda lowered her eyes. "You're right," she mumbled, speaking to the mangled bow on top of the present she was wrapping. "I'm sorry Momma. Maybe you can show me again how to make the curly bows in a few minutes. Right now I think I'm gonna run in and take a shower." She stood up and smoothed her comfort sweater down over her thighs, trying not to make eye contact with Fritz. She brushed past him on the way to the door, and he could feel how stiff her body was. He felt bad for getting angry at her, especially when he noticed she was chewing her lower lip again with renewed vigor. He watched her walk out the door, his anger once again wrestling with sympathy.

Willie Rae gestured for Fritz to sit down at the small table and to start wrapping. He picked up a soccer ball, the closest roll of paper, and some scissors and began to cut. "You're sweet, Fritz, but you don't need to stand up for me. I'm used to Brenda Leigh's moods. And I can tell she's hurtin' and confused right now, so I just let things slide. It's best that way."

"She must have been one heck of a teenager," Fritz said.

Willie Rae rolled her eyes. "Yes, she was the moodiest thing you can possibly imagine. Her daddy used to get so mad at her, sulking at the dinner table, refusin' to talk to us. I just waited for it to pass." Willie Rae looked up from her wrapping and pursed her lips. "Come to think of it, I guess it never really did pass."

"Lucky me," Fritz said.

After a few minutes of wrapping in silence, the RV door swung open, and Clay walked in. "What's goin' on?" he asked. "I just tried to pull Brenda aside to find out what happened to Wesley, and she just brushed me off and ran into the bathroom. Willie Rae, what is it now?" He sat heavily down on the bed, crushing a roll of paper in the process.

"Clay, will you be careful please? You're gonna mess things up." Willie Rae smacked Clay lightly on the thigh and made him stand up so she could retrieve the mangled roll of wrapping. "Oh too bad, the pink Santa paper, that was my favorite."

Clay sighed deeply. "Is someone gonna tell me what the hell is goin' on around here? I don't like bein' kept in the dark."

Before Willie Rae could open her mouth, Fritz quickly told the story. He didn't want Willie Rae to have to explain the horror of Wesley's death, so once again, he found himself being the bearer of Brenda's bad news. "Dammit!" Clay spat. "So that boy in there, that great kid, lost his brother today?" Clay jabbed his finger toward the house. "He doesn't need to know about this, not today, not Christmas, not ever. Kid's had enough disappointments in his life already." Clay turned to Fritz. "Fritz, do you think Brenda was responsible for this somehow, with her lyin' to Wesley about Grady being murdered and all?" He looked expectantly at Fritz.

Fritz didn't know what to say, because he couldn't assign blame, he _wouldn't _assign blame. He didn't have the heart to place all the culpability at Brenda's feet. Not that he hadn't been wondering the same thing all day, but he knew, from years in law enforcement, that things were rarely black and white, and fault was often a matter of opinion, not fact. And nothing was ever simple with Brenda, so he wasn't about to pass a final verdict on whether or not her behavior over the past week ended up getting Wesley killed. And certainly not to her father. He shook his head. "No, Mr. Johnson, this wasn't Brenda's fault. If it wasn't for her, two more guards would have been murdered today." He paused for courage. "And I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't accuse her of anything. She is pretty upset about all this, and no one blames Brenda more for a bad outcome of a case than Brenda blames herself."

Clay narrowed his eyes at Fritz. "Son, I don't need you tellin' me how to talk to my daughter, you understand? I'm not some monster. I saw the look on her face as she ducked past me in the house, I know she's upset. She doesn't need you playin' protector."

"Clay…." Willie Ray started, shooting a warning glance at her husband.

"I'm just sayin', Willie Rae, that I don't need Fritz thinkin' he has to protect Brenda from me, for Pete's sake. And I don't appreciate the assumption that I am gonna go in there and make her more upset than she already is. And another thing…"

Clay stopped in mid-rant when the RV door opened once again, and Brenda walked in. "What's goin' on, Daddy, who you hollerin' at?" Fritz held his breath. A showdown with Clay was the last thing Brenda needed right now. Clay turned and looked at Brenda, and to Fritz's surprise, stood up and put his arm around her. "No one, sweetheart. Now don't you worry. Why don't you finish helping your momma wrap these gifts and then get started on dinner. You look like you could use a good meal." He tenderly kissed Brenda on the forehead, and she closed her eyes for a second. "Now, I gotta go back in there and finish my chess game with Grady. Damn kid's beatin' me, I can't believe it." He turned to leave, throwing a dirty look at Fritz on his way out.

Brenda looked a little better than before, but not much. She changed into a pair of blue jeans and a green sweater, and her wet hair was drying in ringlets around her face, but the fine lines around her eyes and jawline were very visible in the absence of any makeup. She sat back down at the round table, across from Fritz, and pushed the present with the disappointing bow to the side as she started on a new one. He grabbed the abandoned present and said, "Brenda, I have a plan. I happen to be a master at making bows."

"Why I never knew."

"What can I say, I am a man of many talents. You wrap, I'll do the bows, and let's get this done with. Deal?"

"Deal," Brenda answered, and he thought he saw her lips turn upwards for a brief second.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room, and the acrid smell of collard greens in the air was quickly eclipsed by the aroma of baking snickerdoodles. As soon as one batch was done and another was placed in the oven, Willie Rae brought out a fresh plate of cookies and refilled everyone's glass of milk. "I'm makin' gingerbread next, Brenda's favorite," she said, wiping flour off her hands and heading back into the small kitchen.

Clay, Grady, and Fritz sat on the couch together watching the "A Christmas Story" marathon on cable. Even Clay was laughing at the movie, which he had never seen before. "Oh, I remember stickin' my tongue to a flag pole, hurt like the Dickens when my momma used hot water to get it off. I was grounded for a week!" Clay seemed to have forgotten his earlier fight with Fritz, and Fritz hoped all was forgiven. He joked around with Grady and Clay, who seemed like old friends by now, but kept an eye on Brenda. She was sitting by herself in a chair, drinking a glass of Merlot with the bottle at her feet, frequently refilling her glass. She said little, her eyes glassy and staring at nothing. What worried him most, though, was that she ignored the cookies Willie Rae kept bringing out into the living room. Brenda never ignored sweets, ever. What dark recess of her mind could she have crawled into that even sugar couldn't reach?

When the movie started to repeat itself, Fritz brought out the Monopoly game he retrieved along with the chess set earlier that day. It was a Howard family tradition to play board games on Christmas Eve, and he told the story of the Christmas Eve when Karl was so mad when Fritz bought Park Avenue that he threw a Christmas ornament at Fritz's head with great velocity. Mrs. Howard was so angry she sent Karl to bed after "calling" Santa to tell him to not bother to bring Karl Howard any gifts that year, because he had been such a bad boy. Karl cried and Fritz smirked, thinking how great it would be to only have to share his new toys with one brother instead of two, since Karl's Christmas seemed to be cancelled. But later on that night, when Fritz heard Karl crying from across their shared room, he snuck over to his big brother, feeling bad for him. Fritz promised to talk to Santa on Karl's behalf when he showed up that night. Fritz wanted to tell Santa that he wasn't mad at Karl anymore, so Karl should get his presents. After all, wasn't the list made prior to Christmas Eve anyways? Fritz snuck out and lay down on the couch by the fireplace, fully intending to have a word with Santa when he arrived, but he fell asleep. In the morning, all three Howard boys had bulging stockings and a load of presents under the tree, and for years afterwards, Karl believed that Fritz really had talked Santa into giving him presents after all, and Fritz never told him differently.

"So I'm hopin' your brother has realized that there isn't a Santa Claus by now, seein' that he must be over 40?" Clay laughed.

"Yea, so why is he still bein' nice to you? You should 'fess up, Fritz," said Grady. "And if I throw somethin' at your head durin' this game, are you gonna threaten to slap cuffs on Santa unless he brings me my presents?" Grady had tears rolling down his face.

"Hey, maybe that's why my brother became a realtor and I became an FBI agent. Karl wanted to make sure no one ever took prime property from under his nose again, and I liked the idea that I was tough enough to shake Santa down." Willie Rae joined in the laughter, and leaned over to tousle Fritz's hair.

An hour later, Grady bought his third utility, Clay just got a surprise inheritance, and Fritz was in jail…again. Willie Rae had turned the Christmas tree lights on, the TV off, and put on some soft holiday music, bemoaning the disappearance of her Perry Como CD's. More cookies than five people could possibly eat were spread out on the coffee table, and everyone had a glass of eggnog in their hand. Willie Rae had taken off her apron and was sitting next to Clay, giving him unsolicited advise about his real estate purchases. Fritz felt warm and loose, and content, for the first time that day, and he was glad to be in his own home in LA for Christmas. He looked over to Brenda was sitting to see if she, too, was feeling a little Christmas spirit. She was gone.

"Hey, has anyone seen Brenda in awhile?" Fritz asked.

"Uh, last time I saw her wasn't that long ago. She was shoving cookies in the pocket in her sweater, lookin' around like she didn't want anyone to notice," Grady said.

Fritz felt relieved. Brenda was stealing cookies. All was not lost.

He excused himself from the table and went to find her. He found Brenda immediately, asleep in the bedroom. She was fully dressed, lying on top of the covers, curled up in fetal position. The bedside light was on, and he noticed brown crumbs all down her front and on her chin, and he smelled the pungent smell of gingerbread. He thought he saw a gingerbread man's head peeking out through her fisted fingers, where her head lay. She looked like she was trying to make herself small enough to disappear, and again, sympathy rolled over the Brenda-anger in his heart and came out on top. He considered waking her so she could brush her teeth and put on pajamas, but quickly decided against it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, turning out he light. Why does love have to be so hard, he thought, as the shut the door softly and returned to the Johnsons'…and Grady.


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3

Fritz swam up to consciousness, the weight of Brenda's head resting on his bare chest was the sensation he clung to that dragged him out of his deep sleep. He was relieved to feel her so close to him, after she had spent the day trying to avoid any time alone together. He was about to raise a sleep-weary hand to gently caress Brenda's hair when he noticed Brenda was…purring. He opened his eyes and saw great quantities of grey and white fur in front of his face. "Kitty," he grumbled, giving the cat a pat on the bum to move her away, but she was too comfortable to be bothered.

Fritz knew that the only time Kitty slept on his chest was when Brenda was gone. Many a night, when Brenda was out on a case or pulling an all-nighter, he woke up to the sight of a cat-bum in his face. When he was feeling generous, he give Kitty the benefit of he doubt, thinking that perhaps Kitty was trying to fill the void that Brenda left in the bed, since she usually fell asleep with her head on his chest. He wasn't feeling so generous tonight, and since Kitty wasn't curled up by Brenda's hip, that meant he was alone. He turned his head, and sure enough, her side of the bed was empty. He looked at the clock, and it read 3am. Oh, please don't let her be out on another case, he silently pleaded. She can't handle any more today. He got up slowly, finally displacing a very irritated feline, and threw a sweatshirt on. He looked out the window and noticed Brenda's car was there. He released a breath. At least she isn't leaning over any more dead bodies today. There were no lights on in the RV, so she wasn't with her parents. He looked toward the bathroom, thinking perhaps she woke up an decided to change into pajamas and wipe all the cookie crumbs off her face, but the bathroom door was open and the light was off. For the second time in a matter of hours, Fritz searched his small house for signs of Brenda.

Brenda wasn't raiding the cookie tins in the kitchen, and Grady was gently snoring on the fold-out couch. Fritz padded through the living room, and noticed that the back door wasn't closed all the way. He looked around to make sure Kitty hadn't followed him out of the bedroom in hopes of a quick escape, and he quickly opened the door out to the porch, pulling it shut behind him.

Brenda didn't hear him come out. She was still wearing what she had fallen asleep in, but had thrown her comfort sweater on for added warmth. The night was cool, and she had her arms wrapped around herself, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the top step.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you Santa won't come if you are still awake?" he asked softly, trying not to startle her.

She jumped anyways, bringing her hand to her heart and closing her eyes. "Fritz, you nearly scared me half to death! What are you doin' up at this hour?"

"Might I ask you the same?" He sat down beside her. She didn't look too pleased with his company, but he wasn't leaving. He recognized a Brenda-spiral when he saw one; it always started with a distant look in her eyes and pushing everyone away with all her might. It progressed to too much Merlot, not sleeping or eating, lashing out, and tears she never wanted anyone to see. He had to stop this Brenda-spiral now, because he wasn't sure he had the energy to pick up the pieces this time.

"Just couldn't sleep is all," she said, looking up at the stars and twisting the tail of her sweater in her fingers. Fritz gently reached out to stop her from mutilating her favorite piece of clothing, but she pulled away and moved her hand out of reach.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

She took a deep breath. "I can't. Not yet."

"Why not, Brenda? You're miserable and you are holding everything inside. You are going to implode one of these days. And there is a lot to talk about."

"I'm just not ready to talk yet, is all."

He sighed in frustration. Brenda raised a hand to her cheek and rubbed it, and it was only then that he noticed the tears rolling down her face. He felt torn between embracing her and shaking her silly.

"Brenda—" he started.

"It's not like I don't want to talk, because I know that, well, there's a lot to go over, this last week has been so confusin', and…Fritz, are you angry with me?" She turned her head slightly to look at him.

He wasn't going to lie, not this time. "Yes, Brenda, I am angry at you. Very. Are you ready to hear why?"

She shook her head vigorously and wiped more tears from her face. "No, no, please not yet Fritzy, I can't hear it yet, I can't stand it when you're mad at me, I can't, and I have so many things I have to figure out beforehand. Pieces of things, you know? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for whatever you're mad at me about, I'm sure I deserve you bein' angry at me, at least I think I do, but I don't know yet. I don't know, I just don't."

"Brenda, honey, you aren't making any sense." She always got this way whenever any conversation got uncomfortable, with fragments of thoughts tripping over one another as they fell out of her mouth. "Please, just take a deep breath."

She did. "Okay, uh, let me see if I can explain this to you." She sighed. "Years ago, a good friend of mine told me that I had a hard time attachin' feelings to things. Not that I didn't have them, feelin's I mean, it's just that when something happens, it takes me a long time to figure out which feelings go to what, you know, how to match up the feelin' I have in my stomach to what happened. Do you know what I mean?"

"No," he answered honestly.

She fidgeted and went back to wringing her sweater. "Okay, when you put your hand on a hot stove, you feel pain right away, you know you burned yourself, and you figure out real fast that that was a stupid thing to do and never to do it again, right?"

"Yeah," he answered cautiously.

"Well, for me, I burn my hand, and I feel the pain later on but I don't know where it's coming from, and then it clicks a few days later, hey, my hand hurts so bad because I burned it, and then even later, I realize that was a bad thing to do and I really shouldn't do that again. It's like I have to sort through things that are just natural to other people. Does that make any sense?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Are you sure that's not an excuse?" Fritz said softly.

"An excuse for what?" Brenda looked at him sharply.

"For not having to take responsibility for the way you act. For hurting other people. It just seems, I don't know, convenient to say that you can't figure out what to feel, so it's okay to go around and feel nothing. Ignore that anything happened in the first place." Fritz regretted the words as soon as they were out of this mouth. Brenda was right, this wasn't the time or the place to talk this out.

Brenda looked like she had been slapped. "Is that what you think I do?"

Fritz hesitated, but only for a second. "Well, yea."

She buried her face in her hands. "Why are you bein' so mean to me? I'm sorry I'm not you, Fritz. Always so calm, always knowin' the right thing to do or say. Always able to talk about feelin's. If I'm so awful, why do you want to marry me anyways? If I'm this horrible unemotional person who just steps all over people, why don't you just run like hell and find yourself someone who's sweet and cute and has normal ovaries and can give you five children? Go ahead and cut your losses now." She was revving up, starting to rant, and he needed to calm her down.

"Honey, I love you, and I'm not going anywhere, and I'm sorry if I hurt you." He put his arms around her shoulders and she stiffened, but he didn't remove them. "You are a wonderful person, but there's some room for personal growth."

"Who are you, Dr. Phil?" she said bitingly.

"You know, cutting the defensive sarcasm out might make talking to you a little easier, Brenda," he snapped, feeling his patience ebb away with exhaustion. "I know you feel terrible about what happened, but don't take it out on your parents or me. We have all just tried to help in what has been a really hard situation. So maybe if we could talk, without yelling and trying to hurt each other, we both might end up feeling better. Can we please try that, for once?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I'm not ready to talk. I need a day. I burned my hand and I have to feel it." She wiped more tears away from her face. "Please Fritz. Day after Christmas, we'll talk, and I promise to try and do my best to not, well, be a jerk."

"You're not a jerk, Brenda. Don't say that."

"So you still love me?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Fritz moved to the second step and kneeled between Brenda's legs. He took her other hand in his. "Look at me," he said softly. She did. "I have told you this before and I will tell you again: I can be angry and still love you. I can be disappointed and still love you. I can be anything and still love you. Love doesn't stop just because you did something that maybe I don't like. So when we talk, really talk, on the 26th, you have to remember that or we aren't going to get very far. Okay?" He tentatively reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. She didn't flinch.

"I love you too Fritzy, even though I'm not always very good at showing it, I swear I do. I think you're one of the few people who could put up with me," she said, her voice breaking a tiny bit. "Sometimes, I can barely stand to be in my own skin." Fritz could see the self-hatred in her watery eyes.

"I know you love me, Brenda. But loving each other is not enough. We have to learn how to talk. But you aren't ready to do that yet, and that's okay, we should try and act as normal as possible tomorrow around Grady. We will save all the heavy stuff until after Christmas. But now, you need to come to bed with me." He stood up and held out his hand to help her off the top step. She didn't take it.

"I'm not ready to go back to bed yet, Fritzy. Just let me sit out here awhile longer."

"No, Brenda, no. You need to get some sleep. Staying up all night ruminating isn't going to help you get through Christmas day." He paused. "Besides, Kitty misses you."

She looked up at him. "Really? Was he sleepin' on your chest again?"

"Yes, she was sleeping on my chest again, and you know how much I hate that. So please come to bed so I don't have to be cat furniture, okay?"

She smiled faintly and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. "All right, I'm coming to bed, Fritz. I don't want Kitty to be upset."

"Thanks," he mumbled under his breath.

"And because I can't resist the idea of fallin' asleep in the arms of a handsome man."

"Ahhh, much better reason," Fritz smiled, and he led her back into the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Fritz woke Brenda up the next morning at 9am by gently shaking her shoulder. She responded by rolling over on her stomach and pulling her pillow over her head.

"No fair", he said, removing the pillow. "Honey, time to get out of bed."

"Mrrrrmmmmph."

"Your parents and Grady are going to church, and we are going to join them. So you have to get up and get ready. Come on, Brenda."

She lifted her face slightly from the mattress and opened one eye to look at him. "I don't go to church, Fritz. Now go away." She closed her eye again.

"I know you don't go to church, but it's Christmas morning, and it would be very nice if we all went as a family." He paused. "Do your parents even know you don't go to church?"

"Yup. Went through that battle when I was still in college."

"What do you do when you go home and visit them?"

"Sleep in."

"You can't tell me your mother is very happy about that, Brenda. You can at least pretend when they're around, and go back to your heathen ways when they are gone."

Brenda rolled over on her side to look at Fritz, both eyes open. "Look whose talkin'. Do you even know what a church looks like? For the record, it's the big buildin' with the cross on top." Her eyelids began to sag.

"Yeah, but I'm half-Jewish. And besides, my parents are secular humanists. Yours aren't, and it would make them happy if you joined them for the service this morning." He paused, thinking about their conversation last night. "Besides, Brenda, you have a lot of making up to do to your parents for everything that has gone on recently. You getting up and coming to church would be a nice start." He raised his eyebrow at her, and she opened her eyes slightly, glaring at him.

"All right, all right, all right, I'll go. But there better be some good Christmas carols bein' sung to hold my interest, and no sermons 'bout how women should to submit to their men." She sat up on the side of the bed and ran her fingers through her out of control hair.

Fritz grinned. "So, we aren't going to have that big church wedding your momma has been planning?"

He didn't see her swing the pillow until it made contact with the side of his head.

Thirty minutes later, Brenda was showered and dressed, and joined the others in the living room. Willie Rae's face brightened when she saw Brenda.

"Oh honey, you really are comin' with us! I am so happy. We haven't been to church as a family in 20 years."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Don't start, Momma, I'm not in the mood for the "burn in hell" speech you've given me 'bout a billion times. I'm just in it for the Christmas carols." Fritz subtly kicked her foot and hissed, "be nice, Brenda! I mean it."

Grady sided up to Brenda and whispered, "I'm not too big into goin' to church myself, but my Grandma used to make me. I mostly used the time to check out the cute girls in the congregation." He grinned unabashedly. Grady and Fritz looked at each other and started to laugh. Fritz remembered the raging hormones of a 15 year old male, when every opportunity was used to stare at the opposite sex.

"What's so damn funny?" Clay asked brusquely. "I don't think Brenda Leigh's attitude toward religion is anything to laugh about." Fritz and Grady stopped laughing immediately.

"Sorry, sir," Grady and Fritz said in unison, looking at their shoes.

Brenda just stared at the ceiling. "Lighten up, Daddy, it's Christmas mornin'. Deck the halls and all that. Let's get this church thing over with so we can come back and open presents." She looked over at their small tree and saw brightly wrapped gifts with fancy bows under the tree, stacked next to the tree, and leaning against the wall.

"Yea, I was wonderin' who all those presents were for," Grady said. "Santa sure stopped by this house."

Brenda smiled sadly and put on her blazer, nodding at her parents that she was ready to go.

During church, Fritz looked over at Brenda, who was sitting next to Grady, and was horrified to see that they were playing Hangman on a piece of paper Brenda had pulled from her purse. He looked at Clay and Willie Rae to see if they noticed, but they seemed to be engrossed in the service. The only time Willie Rae looked over toward Brenda is when she said, "don't y'all just love singin' Christmas carols? I sure do," and then proceeded to sing "Silent Night" at the top of her lungs, off-pitch. Brenda hastily shoved the Hangman game behind her back before her mother could see, and Grady bit his lower lip to stop himself from grinning. As soon as Brenda saw her mother occupied by the hymnal and her enthusiastic singing, she brought the Hangman game and her pencil out from hiding, and arranged her large purse on her lap as to block her mother's view of their game. Fritz, sitting to Brenda's right, could see perfectly. "Brenda, put that away! What if your parents see you playing games in church? Please at least act like you are here willingly!"

Brenda looked up at Fritz with that defiant look in her face, clearly not happy to be bossed around by Fritz twice in one morning. "Make me," she whispered.

"You are being disrespectful, Brenda, and not setting a very good example for Grady," Fritz whispered back. Would it kill her to pretend to pay attention to make her parents happy? "Why don't you…?"

He was interrupted by a heavy arm that crossed his shoulder and pressed him down into his seat. Clay reached behind Fritz and stretched enough to grab hold of the paper with the Hangman game and rip it off Brenda's lap. She looked up at him, surprised and a little ashamed, and then averted her gaze.

"Please tell Brenda," Clay said close to Fritz's ear, "that a 41-year-old teenager isn't all that impressive. She used to do this when she was growin' up, play games in church, and I had kinda hoped she'd outgrow it by now." Clay looked angry, but Fritz noticed a twinkle in his eye. The rest of the service was spent without disruption, as Brenda furiously studied her nails, and Grady surreptitiously stared at three teenage girls sitting two rows in front of them.

"Present time!" Willie Rae exclaimed. Everyone was gathered in the living room after church, looking at the tree and its overflowing bounty of presents. "Grady, will you play Santa for us?" Fritz smiled, knowing Grady was about to be surprised that all the presents were for him. Just then, Fritz remembered that he had forgotten to wrap Brenda's Christmas present and put it under the tree. He groaned. The woman loves presents; he hoped that she wouldn't interpret a lack of gifts from him as a way of showing how angry he is. Tomorrow, he thought, after our big talk, she will need a present then. He looked at her, studying her expression as Grady pulled present after present from under the tree with his name on it, and she didn't have that eager expression she wore when she was about to get her hands on a nice gift. She wasn't expecting anything, he realized, which made him sad. A reserved Brenda at a present exchange was a side of her he had never seen.

"There are so many here for me, how did y'all do that?" Grady asked, with wonder in his eyes. "I never got so many Christmas presents in my life, I swear." Fritz didn't doubt it. From what Wesley had said, they both had extremely deprived upbringings, and he doubted Wesley could have afforded much for Grady on his guard's salary. Fritz felt glad that he and Brenda could give this type of Christmas to Grady, even though it almost ate up the rest of the yet-to-be-received $20,000 house sale money. The look on Grady's young face made it all worth it. He saw Brenda smile at him, and knew she felt the same thing.

"But where are presents for y'all? How can all these be for me?" Grady asked.

"Oh honey, don't you worry 'bout us," said Willie Rae, organizing the gigantic pile in front of Grady. "Clay and I left all our presents for each other back home, and I imagine Fritz and Brenda are going to exchange their gifts in private." She smiled at Grady. "Honey, if you don't start openin' these now, we aren't ever gonna make it to brunch! Here, start with the smaller ones." She ran her hand over his hair, a subtle, motherly gesture.

They all watched Grady open present after present, his excitement growing. "Thank y'all so much, I hardly know what to say! Wait until I tell Wesley about how nice y'all are bein' to me, givin' me such a wonderful Christmas and all. He's gonna be really grateful for y'all treatin' me like family."

With that, Brenda stood up and quickly walked back toward the bedroom. He knew Wesley's name had upset her, but he wished she could have held it together until the gift-opening was completed. "Fritz, is Brenda OK?" Grady said, setting down a package he had in his hand. "I mean, she's OK with all of this, isn't she?" He looked worried.

"Grady, Brenda's fine, and she's the one who really wanted to make sure you had a good Christmas. She probably has to make a few phone calls for work before brunch. She never really has a day off." To distract him, Fritz said, "hey, open the big one, down by your feet. I have a feeling you will be needing that for brunch today."

Grady opened up the large box that contained the suit Willie Rae and Fritz had picked out. "As soon as you're done with your other packages, Grady, I want you to try that on. I think you are going to be one handsome young man in that suit. Don't you think so, Clay?"

"I do," he said. Every man's gotta have a nice suit. It impresses the ladies, isn't that so, Fritz?"

"Women do find it hard to resist a well-dressed man," he smiled.

After the last of the presents was opened and Willie Rae had gathered up the scraps of wrapping paper, Fritz noticed it was time to head to the hotel for brunch. Grady tried on his suit, and Willie Rae fussed over him, suggesting a few alterations would make it fit any better. "Wait until Wesley sees me in a suit, he won't believe it!" he said. He turned to Fritz. "Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were telling me last night that Wesley was helping out the police, workin' sorta undercover. I was hopin' I can talk to him today, wish him a Merry Christmas and all." Grady turned in the direction of Brenda's bedroom. "Brenda?" he called out loudly.

"Why don't you ask Brenda over brunch, Wesley," he said. "We really have to get going now." Everyone gathered their coats, and Fritz called out for Brenda to join them. There was no response.

"Do you think that fancy beachfront hotel will valet the RV?" Willie Rae asked, mischief in her eyes.

"I'd love to see them try, Fritz said. "Let's take it!" He grinned and leaned over and kissed Willie Rae on the cheek.

"Brenda!" Fritz called again. "Time to go!" Still no response. He and Clay looked at each other. "I'll go and talk to her," Clay said. Fritz nodded. He was relieved to have some backup help with Brenda's dark mood. Ten minutes later, Clay climbed into the RV, mouthing "she's OK" to Fritz, and not long after, Brenda showed up. Clay must have told her to put a smile on her face, Fritz thought, because she was clearly trying to make an effort to look less depressed. But he knew her well, too well, and the self-loathing he saw in her eyes the previous night on the porch was still there.

Brunch went well, and Grady was quite impressed at how nice the hotel was, saying he had never eaten somewhere so fancy. He leaned over to Brenda. "So, which knife and spoon do I use?" he asked, puzzled by the array of cutlery by his plate.

"Start on the outside and work your way in," she said. "And don't worry too much, you aren't gonna get us kicked out of here for usin' the wrong fork. If bringin' the RV here didn't get us thrown out for bein' hicks, than I don't think the improper use of utensils is all that big of a deal." She smiled at Grady and took a bite of a pecan role.

"Hey Brenda, I wanted to ask you if I can talk to Wesley, bein' Christmas day and all. I want to tell him how nice y'all have been to me and what a great day I've had." He looked at Brenda expectantly.

Brenda started to choke, and Fritz quickly handed her a glass of water. She gulped it down, and Fritz could tell she was trying to buy some time to think up an answer. "Ah, no, Grady, I'm sorry," she said, a pseudo-smile on her face. "He's not reachable at the moment, so it's not possible to call him."

Grady's face fell. "When do you think I'm gonna get to talk to my brother?" he asked Brenda. "I know he's doin' important police work and all, but I don't want him to worry about me," Grady said.

Willie Rae spoke up. "Grady honey, Brenda has let Wesley know that you are safe with us, and he's happy about that. So don't you worry about him, he knows you are in good hands." She patted Grady on the arm.

"Okay, whose up for round one?" Clay said, standing up and grabbing his plate. "Do I need to show you, boy, how to load up at a buffet? Come on, let's find us some pancakes." Grady picked up his plate and followed Clay. "Think they have biscuits and gravy?" he asked eagerly.

"Son, this is LA. If they have anything besides alfalfa sprouts and tofu, I'll eat my hat."

They returned home, sleepy and full. Clay and Willie Rae went to the RV for a quick nap, and Grady went through all his presents again. Brenda pulled Fritz into the bedroom. "You'll never guess what my daddy told me," she said. "I can't believe it myself." She took a deep breath. "Momma and Daddy are takin' Grady home to Atlanta tomorrow. To live with them." She looked like she was going to cry again, but she just cleared her throat. "They're amazin', done raisin' three kids and willin' to bring a teenager into their house."

"Well, that's a better option," Fritz said, feeling a little sad.

Brenda looked at him. "Better than what?"

Fritz sat down on the bed next to Brenda. "I was going to talk to you about this tomorrow. I wanted to suggest that we volunteer to become Grady's foster parents, and have him live with us. We're planning on getting a three bedroom house, so we will have the room. And he's such a great kid." Fritz sighed. "And I thought it would be good for us, since, well, since our own having kids is kind of uncertain." He forced himself to smile. "But it's better that he go home with your parents. He will be back in Atlanta, where he belongs, and your mother will take very good care of him."

"Better than I could, you mean," Brenda said, looking at her shoes.

"That's not what I meant at all, and you know it," Fritz answered. "You and I would do just fine with him, he's a great kid and so smart, I have no idea how he has been through what he has been through and still is so sweet. And I was kinda looking forward to a partner to go to the Dodger's games with, but your mom has raised children before, and from what she told me you were quite a handful as a teen, so your parents have the experience to get him through any rough patches."

"Like when he finally figures out his brother is dead, and we've all been lyin' to him. I imagine that will be quite a rough patch," she said, standing up and pacing the room.

"It will be," Fritz said softly. "And he will get through it. And so will you."

Later that evening, while drinking more eggnog and nibbling on last night's cookies, Willie Rae and Clay told Grady their intentions. "Wait, is Wesley okay with this?" he said, confused.

"Oh yes, he is," Willie Rae answered. He's happy you will be back in Atlanta, so you can see your friends and keep an eye on your grandmother. And Clay and I have a big house that we just rattle around in. And we have a pool. It will be so nice to have a young person living with us again. I think we are all gonna get along just fine."

Grady still seemed a bit shocked, but a slight smile played across his lips. "I'm goin' home," he said, almost to himself.

"Yes honey," Willie Rae said, putting an arm around Grady and squeezing. "You're goin' home."

End Part 3


	5. Chapter 5

**Boxing Day, 4/4**

Clay and Willie Rae could be heard up and about in the RV at the crack of dawn, readying for the long drive home. Fritz groaned when Clay's booming voice woke him up for the third time, and decided there would be no rest until the Johnson's had departed. He rolled over to look at the clock, and was surprised to see Brenda sitting on the edge of the bed, her form barely visible in what little light was granted by sunrise.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep. "Why are you up so early?"

Brenda turned and looked at him, clearly surprised to see him awake. "Can't sleep with all the clatter goin' on outside. I swear, Daddy's voice could raise the dead." She turned to her back to him again. "Besides, I need to say somethin' to them in private, for Wesley's sake," she said softly. "Thought I'd take advantage of the fact that Grady was asleep to go out there now, before my Daddy really gets itchin' to get on the road. I just want to see him to try to drag a teenager out of bed this time of mornin.'" She pushed herself off the bed slowly, as if every joint in her body pained her, and reached for her plaid robe. He heard her shuffling around the room until she located her slippers, which she put on and headed toward the bedroom door.

"Brenda," he said, as she turned the doorknob. Again, she turned around to look at him.

"What, Fritz?"

"What are you going to say to your parents, that's for Wesley's sake?"

She was silent for a moment, and then quietly opened the door.

"I'm gonna say thank you," she whispered, and left the room, leaving Fritz to wonder, yet again, what was going through her head.

By 7:30, Willie Rae had roused a reluctant Grady, ordered him to shower, and made pancakes for breakfast. She, Clay, Grady, Fritz, and Brenda were sitting around the small round table, all at risk for nodding off into their plates except for the senior Johnson's, who were wide awake and ready to go. Brenda declined breakfast, and instead had her hands wrapped around an oversized mug of coffee. Fritz noticed that her eyes were red rimmed, and he didn't think it was from the early hour. She had spent nearly 45 minutes in the RV with her parents, then quietly slipped back into the bedroom and laid back down. Fritz put his arm around her and pulled her against him, and she didn't resist. He reluctantly let her go when Willie Rae knocked on their door and called them for breakfast, instantly missing her soft body. He realized that it had been over a week since he had held her or kissed her, as the trip from Atlanta was not conducive to displays of affection, and she had barely let him touch her since arriving back in LA. It took him a few minutes to even remember the last time that had made love. Ah yes, he thought, wincing at the memory. They had just finished and were leisurely kissing and caressing each other in the afterglow, enjoying a rare Sunday morning together. And then Gary Doesn't Lie called and announced that he was showing the house in two hours, and could they please decorate the house for Christmas. When he got off the phone and told Brenda the plan, she instantly went into a snit, the way she always did when she was faced with the reality of moving out of her house. She pulled out of Fritz's arms and started storming around the house, trying to find where she had packed away the Christmas ornaments last year. Come to think of it, Fritz thought, everything went downhill from that moment on. Maybe Gary Doesn't Lie dragged in some bad karma into the house that day, which had wreaked havoc on their lives ever since. He must had made a noise at the preposterous thought, because Brenda said, "what's so funny about Momma callin' us for breakfast so early?" rolling out of bed.

When breakfast was over, Fritz carried the dishes into the kitchen and started putting them in the dishwasher, shooing Willie Rae away. "Cooks never do the dishes," he said to her, "like I told you last night. You have a long drive ahead of you, it's the least I can do to help."

Willie Rae gave him one of her smiles. "Fritz, Brenda's one of the luckiest women in the world to have found you, that's for sure."

"It's mutual," he answered.

Willie Rae's smile faded a bit. "Take good care of her, Fritz. She's—troubled. And I know gettin' her to talk about anything is like haulin' a dog off a meat wagon, but she needs you right now, to help her figure a few things out. Help her, will you? You are so much more, well, levelheaded than she is." Fritz dried off his hands with a nearby towel and turned to Willie Rae. "I'll always be there for her, Willie Rae, no matter what. I promised that to her, and I promise it to you." Fritz leaned down and hugged her, and she hugged him back. "Thank you," Willie Rae said into his ear. "And set a wedding date, will you? I really could use another grandchild or two." When Fritz released her, she looked happy again. "I'm working on it," he said. Then he realized he needed to clarify. "The wedding date thing, I mean, not the, um, getting you more grandkids thing. Not yet."

Willie Rae rolled her eyes. "Her daddy handled the news that you two were living together pretty well, but I think a pregnancy announcement before y'all got married would probably give him a heart attack. I have to say, I don't care all that much what the order of things are, to tell you the truth. I just think the two of you would make beautiful children together, and maybe a baby would help Brenda Leigh get her feet planted a little more firmly on the ground."

Fritz doubted that becoming a mother would chase away all of Brenda's demons, and he also had a hard time believing that Willie Rae wouldn't be upset at the sight of a visibly pregnant Brenda in a wedding dress. He would have to tell Brenda about this discussion later on, because he was sure she would have an opinion about how her mother would react if "the order of things" were backwards. That should give her a good chuckle.

Willie Rae turned away from Fritz and started to gather up the cookies she had baked on Christmas Eve. "I hope you don't mind, Fritz, but since Brenda isn't supposed to be havin' sugar nowadays, I'm gonna take the cookies in the RV for Grady. Let's see, one, two, three, four…Brenda Leigh!" she yelled, loud enough to make Fritz jump. Brenda ran into the kitchen.

"Everything OK, Momma?" she asked.

Brenda, last night before I went to bed, there were five cookie tins full of cookies. Now there are four. Where is it?" Willie Rae held out her hand.

"Where is what?" Brenda said innocently.

Her mother sighed. "Where did you hide the missin' cookie tin, Brenda Leigh? I don't have time to be searchin' all over the house for it." Brenda's mouth opened to say something, but Willie Rae cut her off. "Don't lie to me and tell me you don't know what I'm talkin' about, young lady. I'm not leavin' here without all five tins. Grady needs those cookies more than you." For a moment, the Johnson women just stared at each other, both with hands on their hips. Brenda finally grunted in frustration, stormed into the small laundry room off the kitchen, opened the dryer door, and pulled out a tin. She returned to the kitchen and handed her mother the missing cookies without a word, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, looking angry. Willie Rae turned to Fritz, who had his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. "I should have known to check the dryer," Willie Rae said. "She hid a bunch of Ho Ho's in there once when she was a kid, and I didn't see them when I put a load of wet laundry in. There was chocolate all over everything. I coulda killed that girl."

"Are you sure you want me to procreate with her, Willie Rae," Fritz asked, amused. "We could have a daughter just as stubborn as Brenda, you know."

Willie Rae sighed. "Yes, you should have kids, if only for one reason."

"What's that?"

"Payback." Her lips were pursed, but Fritz knew she was joking, as she looked out into the living room to where Brenda was sitting on the couch, arms folded, clearly pouting.


	6. Chapter 6

Clay bellowed out that it was time for everyone to get on the RV, and the next several minutes were a flurry of hugs, I love yous, and call mes. When the Atlanta-bound crowd finally left Brenda and Fritz's house, Brenda went over to the couch and grabbed her brown chenille throw blanket and wrapped herself in it. Fritz started the dishwasher and joined her in the living room, a second cup of coffee in his hand. He sat down next to Brenda on the couch and turned to look at her.

"It's Boxin' Day," she said, so tightly wrapped in the throw blanket that part of her face was covered and her words were muffled.

"It's what, honey?"

"I said it's Boxin' Day. December 26."

"Brenda, I don't think our talk is going to require the use of boxing gloves and nunchucks, do you?" he said, trying to joke with her. "Because there's no one to referee around here besides Kitty."

Brenda didn't smile. "No, goofy, Boxin' day is a British holiday, when the rich would put gifts of food and gold into boxes and give it to their servants. Back in medieval times. Now it's a national holiday there. I just always thought the name was kinda funny."

"Do you think the FBI has some nice box of treats waiting for me on my desk?"

"That's about as possible as the LAPD givin' me somethin' else besides a black eye for Christmas," she said, playing with the fringe on the blanket. "Will is furious with me for this whole mess, so I'm not exactly holdin' my breath waitin' for a box of goodies."

"I don't care about Will," Fritz said, a little too harshly. "He praises you when you make him look good and yells at you when you don't. It kills me to watch it."

Brenda ran her hands through her curly hair. "I can take care of myself with Will," she said. "And besides, I don't want to talk about Will, he's not part of"—she waved her hand in the air—"all this mess we have to discuss."

I don't want to talk about him either, thought Fritz, remembering the numerous fights they have had about Will Pope, many of them borne from his own insecurities. "You're right, there's other things to talk about. I don't want to end this day feeling angry with you, Brenda. As much as you hate it when I get mad at you, I hate the feeling even more. Hey, look at me," he said, touching her shoulder, and watched as she reluctantly turned and pressed her back into arm of the couch, so she was facing him at last. "Brenda, we're getting married, and we have to learn to talk to each other." She nodded.

"I don't even know where to start, Fritz. This last week has been, well, so confusin.' I may be bad at interpersonal stuff, I admit, but I'm good at my job. And now I'm wonderin' if I'm bad at my job too, or at least made wrong decisions in this case. And that makes me feel, well, so confused, that I really don't know what you want me to start talkin' about."

"Start at the beginning, Fritz said, and paused. "No, before the beginning."

"Before?"

"Yea, way before, because there is something I am curious about, Brenda. Your whole family made planned to spend Christmas together in Florida, and I am assuming you were invited, right?

"Yeah, of course I was," she said. "Why?"

"Brenda, why didn't you tell me about it? I've been saying how much I would love to meet your brothers and their families. Why didn't you ask me if I wanted to go? Why didn't you want to go?" He looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

She seemed surprised by his question. "Well, I, I just didn't think I'd be able to take time off work," she said. "It sounded like fun and all, but you know how hard it is for me to get away from work, so I just told Momma no." She chewed on her lip. "Why are you asking me about this, Fritz? It's my family, it's my decision to go these things."

"Brenda, yes, it's mostly your decision, but would it have killed you to talk to me about it? Just ask me what I thought, and would I want to go? Like every year when I ask you to come out to Vermont for Thanksgiving with my family and every year you say no? You know I would never clip your wings, Brenda, you know that, but we are a couple, soon to be a married couple. That means your family becomes my family, and vice versa. Your decisions become our decisions, don't you see?"

"But-" she started, but he held up his hand. "I don't want to belabor the point, but when is the last time you even saw your brothers and your nieces and nephews?"

"I flew to Georgia for that family reunion two summers ago," she said defensively. "I saw everyone then."

"You were there for what, three days?" She didn't answer. "Brenda, do you know how fast kids grow up? You have three nieces and two nephews, right, and they aren't even going to remember their Aunt Brenda. My brother has kids, and if I didn't make an effort to keep in touch, visit when I can, send birthday cards, I can tell you, he would really be hurt. And I'm sure your brothers are too. And I heard what your dad said about you never coming home to visit. Honey, that's got to change. Your parents aren't going to be around forever, and you need to make an effort to spend more time with them. And the rest of your family. And expect me to lean on you about that in the future, okay?"

He noticed her eyes were filling. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" she said accusingly.

"Yes and no," he answered. "I can't make you feel anything, one way or another. I am just trying to get you to see that you have responsibility to the people who love you, to your family, and to me, and we all get terribly neglected, and I am using this time to call you on the carpet for it."

"We?" she said.

"We. I'll get to me in a minute. So, besides you not even considering joining your family for Christmas in Florida, you came home at the last minute to ruin your parent's trip to Florida."

"I didn't ruin—"

He interrupted her again. "The hell you didn't, Brenda," he said, feeling the simmering spark of anger in his stomach grow larger. He took a slow, calming breath before he continued. "You gave them one day's notice you were coming out, under the pretense of spending Christmas with them, so they cancelled their trip to Florida to welcome you home. You didn't even tell me about their plans until we were on the plane, until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to lock you in the house and make you realize how unfair you were being."

"Unfair? Unfair how? It seemed perfect, two birds with one stone, I could pick up Wesley and get to see my parents at the same time. I don't see what was so wrong with that, Fritz."

"It's wrong because you lied, Brenda. To your parents, and to me. And you didn't think for one second about the ramifications of your lie to your parents, did you? That they would cancel their Christmas plans, and you would turn around and leave with your suspect one day after you arrived."

Brenda, said nothing, just looked at her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Brenda, if this is hard for you to hear, because this is hard for me to say. I love you and I hate to hurt you, but I have to be honest. This is it, Brenda, this is the crux of all your problems, and that is your complete inability to be anything but single-minded to the point of obsession when you are involved in a case. You don't care about who you ignore, who you hurt, as long as you close your case. Nothing or no one else matters to you, you are like a tornado, leaving a path of hurt feelings in your wake." He paused again to calm himself, because he could tell his voice was getting louder and louder. He said softly, "I don't mean to yell, but it's the root of so many of your problems, Brenda, with me, with your family. And it's hard enough for me to deal with, and I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you, but to see how it hurts your parents, who are good people and clearly love you, well, it honestly wants me to shake you until you wake up and notice there are other people in the world. To use your own analogy, Brenda, you have burned your hand over and over again, why can't you feel it?" He felt his face get hot, and it dawned on him that that he had waited a long time to tell her this. All of a sudden he knew he had to say it, because his resentment toward her for her casual neglect had been festering for a long time, and had come to head within the past week. He had to let her know this, to lance the boil, or the resentment was threatening to poison him.

There was silence in the room, except for the sounds of Kitty batting around a Christmas ornament. Brenda was chewing her thumb nail and not looking at him, her eyes full of tears that threatened to overflow at any second. She looked like a small child who had just been punished. She said nothing.

"Brenda, it's your turn to say something," he said, in the most soothing voice he could muster. "Discussions go both ways."

She looked at him then, and the child changed into the woman so rapidly that Fritz didn't have a chance to blink. She sat up straighter, and the interrogator's mask slipped over her face.

"What exactly do you expect me to say?" she said through clenched jaws. "Am I supposed to apologize for bein' Deputy Chief, for bein' dedicated to my job? Do you want me to say I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect daughter or sister or fiancée because I'm not runnin' around taking care of everybody? Because I won't, Fritz, I won't apologize for that, because no one ever makes men feel guilty for havin' busy careers."

"Brenda, this isn't about just your job, don't make it about that, it's too easy. This is about you, about your behavior, and the choices you make."

"Thanks Fritz, for makin' that crystal clear," she said, the sarcasm he had asked her to avoid creeping into her voice. "Since I'm obviously this horribly selfish career-obsessed woman who doesn't give a damn about anyone else and has the insight of a shoe box, I ask you again, what do you want me to say? What exactly to you want me to do to make you happy?" Her voice was getting louder, her anger eclipsing his own.

"This isn't about making me happy, Brenda, don't simplify this so you can make it all about me and not about you. Your behavior this week was horrible, and you have got to see the effect that had on your parents and me. And for that matter, members of your squad."

She stood up quickly and threw the blanket off of her. She looked down and slipped her feet into her slippers, and then looked at him, her face stony. "You know what, Fritz? I do have choices, and I choose not to sit here and have you tell me what a terrible person I am. I'm leavin'." She started walking toward the door, reaching down at the end of the couch to grab her purse.

Fritz grabbed her wrist before her hand could touch her bag. He pulled her up, as gently as possible. "No," he said simply.

Brenda struggled against his grasp. "What the hell do you mean, 'no?' I'll damn well leave if I want to. Let me go, Fritz, now!" She was furious, and got even angrier when he reached over and grabbed her other wrist.

"You are not walking out of this conversation, Brenda, I won't let you. Not this time." His eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice soft and level, with great effort. "Now, sit down, Brenda."

"You're hurting me!" she whined. "Fritz, stop, really, I'm gonna bruise!"

"If you would calm down and promise to sit back down, I will let you go," Fritz said, his voice rising. "You know I would never hurt you, Brenda, but this has got to stop, and it has got to stop NOW." He had given up trying to be in control. This shift in mood caught Brenda's attention.

She looked at him, almost afraid. "What stops now?"

"This, this incredibly juvenile way we fight. And it isn't just you, I've stormed out of this house during arguments many times too. We both have to figure out a way to argue that doesn't regress us to teenagers." He was breathing heavily. "Like I said, Brenda, we are going to be married. Is this how you want us to communicate the rest of our lives together? One of us storming off when the conversation gets too painful, leaving the other to worry and wait? We might have a kid, Brenda, if we're lucky, and there is no way in hell I'll let he or she watch us fight like this." He was almost panting. "That's how my family was like when I was little. I'd hear my mom and real father fighting, and one of them would storm off and slam the door, and I was sure it was somehow my fault. I'll be damned if I am going to let our child feel that way in our house." He could feel his blood pressure rise, angry at Brenda, angry at the unwanted memories that he couldn't force down.

Fritz felt Brenda stop struggling, her arms going limp. Still, he held on and looked at her. Her face had changed again, not a little girl nor the tough interrogator, but just a woman, a vulnerable woman, who wore a mixture of sadness and regret on her troubled face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, so softly that Fritz barely heard her. "I'm really sorry, Fritz. You're right, I know I run away a lot…" she looked away. "I'm sitting back down, OK? Not going anywhere." She nodded with her head in the direction of her wrists, which still had his hands wrapped tightly around them. He let her go and backed away. She turned around and walked back to the couch, rubbing her wrists as she went. Fritz felt a pang of guilt. He hoped he hadn't hurt her.

He followed and sat back down next to her on the couch. She turned to face him again, and he could tell by the way she kept opening and closing her mouth that she wanted to say something, and was desperately trying to find the words.

"I know that I do become, well, very focused on my job when I have a case," she started slowly. "But I don't know how to be anythin' else. I mean, I am good at my job, and I'm good at my job because I'm so focused. I don't miss details, I can drag anything out of anyone, and I solve cases no one else can solve. And that's who I am, what I am." She looked up at him. "I decided a long time ago, after my divorce from Hart, that the marriage and kids things wasn't for me, I'm just hopeless in relationships and didn't want to go through life gettin' my heart smashed. So I decided to stick to what I do best, what makes me feel confident and secure in my abilities. Stick to what you're good at, you know?" She laughed bitterly. "So I just threw myself into my work, and I was happier with that, bein' in a zone where I felt I knew what I was doing, forget this romance stuff. And then you came along and completely took me by surprise. I had no intention of getting involved with anyone in LA, especially not right when I really had to prove myself at the LAPD, and the next thing I know, you're shakin' my hand and I'm pullin' you into a big sloppy kiss." She smiled for a second at the memory. "And now I'm gettin' married, something I definitely swore off forever. So I don't know how to be great at my job and be a good wife and all that. The work stuff comes so easily, and the relationship stuff, with you, and my parents, and anyone else for that matter, well, it's just so hard. And those things, work and relationships, came crashin' together this week, and the results were a disaster." She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the couch, looking tired, as if opening up this much had drained her.

"Brenda, first of all, you are more than your job, as good at it as you are," Fritz said softly, relieved that she was finally starting to open up. "It makes me sad to hear you say that the only thing you are good at, the only thing that makes you who you are, is your work. You are so much more than that." She opened her eyes and looked at him, questioning. "It pains me to know you can't see that. Brenda, you are one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. You are beautiful, eccentric, funny, and, even though you don't like people to see it, incredibly kind and compassionate. I didn't fall madly in love with you because you are good at your job, although that certainly impressed me in DC. I fell in love with you for all those other reasons. And even though I know I come second to your work, and I'm trying to learn to live with that."

Brenda's head shot up. "Wait a minute, Fritz, you think you come second to my job, is that what you just said?" She looked confused.

"Yea, I did say that, and yea, that's how I feel, without a doubt. It is what I was trying to tell you earlier, about how you ignore everything and everyone when you are on a case. It hurts, Brenda, but like I said, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating. 'Assumption of the risk,' I do believe lawyers call it. Not that I like it, Brenda. You are my whole world, you come before everything else, and I wish you felt that way about me. But I know how important your work is, so I just try to accept it."

Brenda was clearly flustered. "But Fritz, it's apples and oranges, how can you compare our relationship and my job? They're two different things." She started waving her hands in the air again. "How can you say you come in second, I mean, where do you get that? How can you rank somethin' like that, or are you just trying to make me feel guilty again? I know I spend a lot of time away from home, but I have to, it's not my fault that people are gettin' killed in LA all the time, and I try to get home as soon as I can…" she was starting to rant, and Fritz had to stop her.

"Shhh," she said, grabbing her hand. "You're rambling, Brenda. I'm sorry that was hard for you to hear."

"Hard for me to hear? You basically just told me I'm a horrible and neglectful partner. Well, maybe I am. Maybe I should have stuck with my original plan and just stayed celibate. I didn't know you felt so neglected, Fritz," she said sarcastically.

"You would know if you paid any attention, Brenda. Like I said, when you are on a case, nothing else matters to you. Including me."

She shook her head. "That's not true, Fritzy. It's not."

"Do you want an example, Brenda? A time you clearly chose your work over my feelings?"

"Not particularly, but go ahead, you are gonna tell me anyways."

He ignored her disdain. "On the way home from Atlanta, when you couldn't get Wesley to talk, after you told him the lie about Grady being murdered. Your dad whips out a bottle of scotch and hands it to you to get Wesley drunk." Fritz closed his eyes as he felt a wave a nausea reminiscent of how he felt as Brenda poured booze down Wesley's willing throat. "Besides it being completely unethical on a million levels, and his confession would be inadmissible, and hearing you did that to a suspect could damage your reputation..."

"Yea, I get the point, Fritz, now go on," she said icily.

"I told you Wesley had a drug and alcohol problem, but you got him drunk anyways. And you know I'm in AA. Yet I had to sit there and watch you hand drink after drink to a substance abuser so you could get the answers you needed. Do you have any idea how awful that was for me to see? And I know, Brenda, that you knew it was wrong, what you were doing, because you couldn't even look me in the eye." He rubbed his face. "Just once, just once, Brenda, I would have liked you to have chosen me over getting a confession. You could have told your father to put the scotch away, knowing how hard it would be for me to watch you get Wesley drunk. How cruel it was."

"Cruel…for him or for you?"

"For both of us. But I'm talking about me now. And honestly, as bad as last week was, as poor as some of your choices were, I think I am most upset with you about you using alcohol to get Wesley to confess. It felt like a slap in the face, to be honest, like I, and my past, meant nothing to you. It hurt, Brenda."

"You mean, the past you didn't bother to tell me about until three months ago, and only told me because I found out about it? You mean that past?" She was angry.

"Fair enough, Brenda. Like I said, we need to work on our communication, and you certainly aren't the only culprit. But I told you how bad things were, how much I hated myself and my life back then, what alcohol did to me. And then to see you ignore all that because of the possibility of getting a confession out of someone? How could I not feel like I come in a distant second?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" she said defensively. "It wasn't a game, I was tryin' to stop more guards from bein' killed."

"What else could you have done?" he asked incredulously. "You are Brenda Lee Johnson, the best interrogator in the LAPD. You could have found another way."

"Fritz, I wasn't in my element. I didn't have the resources I do at work, like a squad, and an interrogation room, and I didn't have the ability to find out the answers before I interviewed the suspect, like I normally do. And when I interrogate someone, I'm playin' a role, based on whosever sittin' in front of me. I walk in, do what I need to do and be who I need to be, and then I get to walk out, confession in hand. In this case, I was locked up in an RV for four days with a suspect with an attitude, and I wasn't able to just walk away from him. As much as I tried to stay remote, in character, for Goodness sake, the man was with my parents, my fiancé! It's a little tough to have the kind of boundaries I need to deal with a suspect when I'm cooped up with him for four days. And we were gettin' closer and closer to California without an expedition warrant, so I was gettin' closer and closer to bein' a kidnapper. I did what I had to do. That's my job." Brenda crossed her arms and frowned at Fritz.

"So the end justifies the means?" he said softly.

"I didn't say that, Fritz. I just said that I did the best I could under very difficult conditions. I'm sorry your feelin's got hurt, that wasn't my intention. I was just gettin' a little desperate, was all. I thought you would understand."

"Understand? Understand what? That it's OK to be unethical when you are desperate? To treat suspects like the way you treated Wesley? I know you have issues with the FBI, Brenda, but I have never seen an agent be as mean to a suspect as you were to Wesley. How could I possibly understand, or condone, what you did? That's certainly not the way I do my job. I know you are used to me backing you up, Brenda, and I did. Did it ever occur to you who told your parents that Grady was alive?" He looked at her, and she shook her head. "Well, it was me, right after we dropped you off at work. And as you know from talking to your mother, they were very upset, and I had to smooth things over as best I could. But I shouldn't have been put in that position in the first place."

"I never asked you to cover for me, Fritz. That was your choice."

"Oh, so I suppose I should have just let them walk through the door and introduce them to Grady and let them figure it out for themselves? Or risk your parents slipping up and saying something about thinking he was dead? I couldn't do that, Brenda, come on. I had to cover for you. You left me no choice. I'm sure it never even crossed your mind that your parents would have to be told the truth once you got home, did it? You were too focused on the case to be concerned with small details like that." Fritz heard the sarcasm creeping in his voice and knew he should stop talking, but he was on a role.

"And I have another question for you, Brenda. This robbery case was taken away from Taylor and given to you, right?" She nodded slightly. "I wonder if some of your tactics were so ruthless because you were so desperate to solve this case to one up Taylor." Fritz knew immediately that he hit a nerve.

Brenda glared at Fritz. "You have got to be kiddin' me. In the laundry list of things I did wrong, how horrible I am and all, you put me in the same category as Taylor? Like I would sink to his level and play his little competitive games to impress Will? Is that who you think I am?" Brenda's face got red. "Ruthless, huh? Well, I guess this whole thing has really brought out how you really feel about me, Fritz. I thought you respected my work, but I guess not. Seems like as far as you are concerned, I'm just shoven' bamboo shoots up people's fingernails for a livin'." She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, laying her check on her thigh, refusing to look at Fritz.

"I am honestly not sure, Brenda," Fritz said, trying to slow his breathing as each word came out, "that there is a hell of a lot of difference between bamboo shoots and telling a man he was responsible for his brother's death."

"Go to Hell, Fritz," Brenda said in a low voice, still staring down at the floor. "Just go to Hell." He said nothing, watching her, knowing that they were getting close to the heart of the matter.

Brenda was silent for several minutes, as she slowly rocked herself back and forth on the couch, balled up as tightly as possible. She finally spoke. "I had no choice. It was his hurt feelin's or more dead guards. You have no right to accuse me of torture. I did what I had to do. And you know what, Fritz? As 'ruthless' as you think I am, it worked. As did gettin' Wesley drunk. I'm havin' a hard time regrettin' either one of those ideas, since we saved two guards."

"And Wesley ended up dead, Brenda. I ask you again, does the end justify the means?"

She looked at him finally, her face pale, her eyes cold. "Since you are all about tellin' me where I get off today, then you might as well unload on this one, though I'm already pretty sure of your answer." Her voice wavered. "You think I got Wesley killed, don't you? That he's dead because of me." She stared at him, her pupils so big it was as if her eyes were black. Her breathing quickened, waiting for his response.

"I don't know, Brenda," he said slowly. "I really don't know."

She turned and buried her face in her knees again, pulling the throw blanket around her as if swaddling herself. She was quiet again, but after a few minutes, Fritz noticed her thin shoulders shaking, and could hear small, desperate gasps emanating from deep within her. He scooted closer. "Brenda?" he asked softly. "Hey, Brenda, look at me."

But she wouldn't. Soon her whole body was shaking, and her muffled wails became louder. She began to rock herself on the couch again, like a child trying to comfort herself. She was sobbing, the sounds she was making out of sync with how strongly her body was shaking. He had no doubt she was trying to hold it in, that she didn't want him to see her break down like this.

He had only seen Brenda cry a few times before. Just a couple tears here or there, like Christmas Eve night out on the porch, or else he caught her crying in the bedroom and she pretended that nothing was wrong as she quickly dried off her face. But he had never seen her sob before, never seen her rip her soul open and let sadness flow freely. It almost frightened him to witness coming from his Brenda, his girl, the strongest person he knew. He put his arm around her and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go. He tried to get her to sit up and breathe deeply, but she wouldn't straighten. Finally, he picked her up and sat her on his lap. At first, she remained in a tight ball, refusing to relax at all in his arms. After several minutes of muffled sobs, she finally came up for air, and Fritz got a look at her face. Tears and mucus had run down to her chin, her red eyes blood red. She gasped for breath and let out short, sharp shuttering moans that cut through him and pierced his heart. Before she could bundle herself back into a ball, Fritz gently guided her head to lay against his chest, under his chin, and wrapped his harms around her. She grasped at his shirt and continued to cry, and he could feel her hot tears through the thin layer of his cotton shirt. He slowly stroked her back and whispered calming words to her, but didn't try to stop her tears. He knew this was catharsis, very long overdue, and Brenda was finally feeling the pain from her burnt hand. He wasn't going to interfere with this process until the last bit of blackness had been spewed from her heart.

After a long time, her sobs slowed down, and her iron grip on his shirt relaxed a bit. Fritz could hear her fighting to slow her hitching breath by inhaling slowly. Her body's slackness against him didn't stiffen, and Fritz took this as a good sign, that she was starting to let go…of something. He wasn't sure what, but he was hopeful now she could talk to him about it, without her usual defensiveness.

When she had been quiet for several minutes, Fritz leaned down and whispered in her ear, "honey, I'm going to set you down for just a minute so I can get you some Kleenex and a glass of water, OK?" Her grip on his shirt tightened, and he felt her shake her head no. He kissed the top of her head and said in a soothing voice, "Brenda, I'll only be gone for 30 seconds, I promise. I will be right back, and I will wrap you in my arms again. But right now, you are getting snot on my shirt." His small joke brought a spasm of breath from her, which could have been an attempt at laughter. She let his shirt go, and he gingerly lay her on her side on the couch, covering her with the throw blanket. She quickly hid her face, burying it between her hands, so he didn't get a good look at her.

Fritz went into the bathroom and got a towel and a washcloth. He soaked the washcloth with warm water, and grabbed the box of Kleenex that sat on the back of the toilet. He then went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of ice water. When he returned to the living room, Brenda had not moved. He sat on the floor next to her, and began to rub her back again. "Honey, I need you to sit up for a second, OK?" he said softy. "Come on Brenda, sit up for me, please." After sighing deeply, she slowly pushed herself up on one arm into a sitting position. Fritz was shocked at how bad she looked. Her face was right red and puffy, her eyes almost swollen shut. There were still some tears forcing themselves out of her bloated eyes, and he noticed that her shirt was wet with tears and mucus, as were the edges of her hair. He silently handed her the warm washcloth, and she silently took it, rubbing her face and neck with it. When Fritz felt that she was relatively clean, he held his hand out for it, and she gave it back, not looking at him. He then placed the box of Kleenex on her knee. She took a stack and began blowing her nose, and Fritz quickly lost count of how many Kleenexes she used, but she created an impressive pile next to the couch. When she finished with that, her nose bright red now, he handed her the glass of water, which she downed without pausing. Fritz busied himself cleaning up, in order to give her another minute or two to collect herself. When he returned from the kitchen and bathroom, she was still seated, which seemed like a good sign, and he couldn't detect any fresh tears. Still, she didn't look at him.

"Thank you," she said to the floor. Her voice was thick and gravelly.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, as he sat next to her on the couch.

"I don't know," she answered. "And…and I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, Brenda?"

"For this," she waived her hand in the general direction of her face. "For fallin' apart. I don't like to get that way, and it's a hundred times worse when someone has to see it. It's humiliatin.'" She started to play with the fringe on the throw blanket again.

"Brenda, look at me," he said. She did, reluctantly. "Do I look upset?" She shook her head. "Good, because I'm not upset, I'm relieved. Relieved that you needed to get some stuff out, and you did, so it's not going to sit inside you and fester. And relieved that hopefully, your defenses are down enough now that we can talk a little more honestly."

She closed her eyes. "Oh Fritz, I am so tired of talkin'. It doesn't change things in the end, you know?"

"It does when there are important things to be said."

She bit her lower lip. "OK, you are right, I just always feel like things come out worse than what I really mean to say. Somehow, from the time the words get from my head to my mouth, they get all turned around, and no one understands what I'm tryin' to say."

"Try me," Fritz said.

"OK." She wiped her swollen eyes with the back of her hand, looking away from him again. "I know there are so many things to apologize to you about, Fritz. I am so sorry I dragged you out to Atlanta to become a part of this whole mess. I am so sorry…" her voice caught, and she had to swallow a few times before she could continue… "so sorry that I got Wesley drunk in front of you, ignorin' how mean that was. And I'm sorry that I went runnin' off, leaving you to explain things to my parents." She winced. "God, I really an a bitch, aren't I? A piece of work, as my daddy would say."

Fritz reached and grabbed her hand. "You aren't a bitch, Brenda, and don't let me ever hear you call yourself that. I know you hate that word above all others, and I am not going to let you use it on yourself, ever. OK?" She hung her head. "And Brenda…" he took her chin in her hand and turned her face toward his… "I forgive you." He caressed the side of her face with his hand, and fresh tears sprung into her overworked eyes. He had the foresight of leaving the Kleenex box near the couch, and he took one and dabbed the tears away. "No more of that, now," he said gently.

"Thank you, Fritzy, for acceptin' my apology. Some day I will have to figure out whatever I did in a past life to deserve you, 'cuz it certainly wasn't anything I did in this one." She forced a smile. "But the big one, Fritz, the thing I never realized…I didn't know that you felt you came in second…to my job, I mean. And it, well, it makes me sad," she paused for control, "that you think that. And that I've been too dense, or wrapped up in my work, or in myself, to realize that you felt that way. I am so, so sorry for that, Fritz, so sorry." She pulled her hand away from his and again wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, making herself small again. "What can I do to make it up to you?" she said, almost in a child's voice, barely above a whisper. "Tell me, and I swear, I'll do it."

He put his hand on her hunched shoulder and lightly massaged it. "I know this is a hard one, Brenda, for you, because your life is your job. And I'm not sure I can give you tangible examples of how to make things different, it's so much more complicated than that."

"Please try," she said. "I'm a concrete thinker, you know that."

He leaned back and thought, where to start? Three years of clearly being forgotten, alone in the house, no idea where Brenda was or what she was up to, or when she might come home. The ever-present knot in his stomach when they were together enjoying themselves that the phone would ring and she would have to go running off, never bothering to apologize for ruining their fun, nary a backwards glance at him. She reminded him of Kitty, who would be perfectly content to sit in his lap until he saw Brenda walk in, and then it was as if Fritz meant nothing. No wonder Brenda and Kitty get along so well, he thought wryly.

"OK, here are a couple of things I would love for you to do, that would make me feel a little less second string. First, call me. Even in the middle of an intense case, I would love it if you would take five minutes and just call to say hello, tell me how the case is going, and that you love me. And call me when you are going to be late, and try and sound sad about it."

"But I am sad about it!" she said

"OK, than tell me that, that you are sorry you won't be able to see me because you are coming home so late, or not at all. Let me know that you care that I am by myself, missing you. And let me know that even in the middle of a crazy case, you miss me too." Tall order, he thought.

"But I do miss you, Fritzy. I do. I wish you were by my side during these cases, to talk to, to run things by and get your opinion. And even more important, I wish you were there so I could shut the shades in my office and you could hold me for a minute, and I would have a brief reprieve from havin' to be the boss and havin' to always have all the answers. I wish that so much, during all these long investigations. I should have told you, but I'm so bad at sayin' these things."

He looked at her with surprise. He never knew that she gave a second thought to him during a case, except for the times she did actually remember to call him and tell him not to make dinner. Usually, he had to track her down to find out what her plans were.

"I didn't know that, Brenda," he said tenderly, continuing to caress her shoulder. "I didn't know that I could give you reprieve from what was going on around you." He leaned closer, forcing her to look at him again. "Brenda, don't you know that all you need to do is call me, and I'll make time to come over to your office and give you that hug? That it would mean the world to me to be able to take you away from all your pressures for a few minutes? And that you actually need me on that level?" He felt tears sting his own eyes. "I wish you told me this before. And more importantly, I wish you asked for this before. Brenda, if there is one thing you should know by now, is that I will always be there for you, always." He caressed his face, and she gently rubbed her cheek against his hand.

"I'm sorry I never told you this before. It just felt so…incredibly needy."

"I think it sounds incredibly human."

She nodded mutely. "What else, Fritzy, can I do that makes you feel like I value you more? Give me somethin' else I can work on." She was almost pleading with him.

Fritz thought to the long list he had in his head, all the things he wished Brenda would do, like delegate to her squad so her hours would be shorter, take real vacations with him in which she would be completely unreachable, demand that when there are weekends when her squad is not on call that murders go to Robbery/homicide, tell Will Pope to stop treating her like she's worthless unless she gets a confession, give a case to Taylor now and again, since she gladly takes them from him…the list was endless. He thought, in her fragile state, starting a discussion about Taylor and Pope, and how dealing with them differently might result in her hours being closer to sane, was not be the best of ideas. He needed something simple, concrete, not too intimidating, and then they could slowly work from there.

"You stay late at work to do paperwork a lot," he finally said. "Is there any way you can lug a few boxes home and work from here, in the evenings? I can cook you dinner and then leave you alone, being extra quiet, so you can get your work done without disruption. But you would be with me in the house, I wouldn't be alone, and that would mean a lot to me." He know he probably sounded a little desperate, but he didn't care. He was tired being in the small house in the evenings with no one to talk to except Kitty. If she brought her paperwork home, he could feed her dinner, watch her with her glasses perched on the end of her nose and admire her beauty, and know she was safe with him.

Brenda nodded. "I can do that, Fritz," she said softly. After awhile, she said, "you certainly don't ask for much, do you?"

"Oh, there's more, Brenda, let's just start with these, OK?" He kissed her head again, and she leaned it on his shoulder, closing her eyes. He took her hand and threaded it through his. They sat like that for a long time, both lost in their thoughts.

After awhile, she raised her head and looked at him. "I need to talk to you about Wesley," she said sadly. "What I've been thinkin' about, since that night on the porch, what I've been tryin' to figure out is if I, if I killed him. I mean, if tellin' him about Grady is what got him killed. It certainly made him shoot his partners, since he was afraid they would go after Grady. But what I don't understand…" she started to chew her lip again.

"What?" Fritz prompted her.

"He knew that Grady was alive when he dumped his wire," she said. "He knew that I had lied to him. And yet, he wasn't mad at me, and I don't know why."

Fritz frowned. "How do you know he wasn't mad at you?" he asked.

"When he dumped his wire, he recorded a message for me which we downloaded back at Parker Center," she said. "He told me that he knew from lookin' at the fake crime scene I had Lieutenant Tao put together that we were lyin.' We made it look like Grady was killed by Wesley's accomplices because they were lookin' for Wesley's money, but Wesley said in his message to me that they knew exactly where they kept his money, so he knew right away that the crime scene couldn't be real."

Fritz looked at her. "You had Tao fake a crime of Grady's death, and then made Wesley watch it? Jeez, Brenda, that was a little over the top."

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," she retorted. "Anyways, Wesley said that Thumps and RJ would figure out pretty quickly that is was Grady who gave their names to the cops, and he said…" she stopped, her throat closing up. She cleared her voice. "He said that if anything should happen to him, to take care of his little brother." Her face tightened, and fine lines formed around the corners of his mouth. "But he wasn't mad at me lyin' to him, and for him to ask me to make sure Grady would be cared for…" Brenda stopped in midsentence, as if saying any more would threaten to steal her voice forever.

"He trusted you," Fritz said softly. "As strange as it sounds, as acrimonious as your relationship was, especially in the beginning, he saw something in you that allowed him to trust you. I think, maybe, the alcohol just gave him an excuse to open up. And Brenda, I think you saw something in him besides just a criminal. Maybe it was both of you being from Atlanta, or something else, but I know you cared about him, cared very much what happened to him." Brenda nodded mutely.

"And I know you roll your eyes when I talk about anything metaphysical, but maybe in some way, this was meant to be."

"What, I was meant to get him killed? Please, Fritz, I feel bad enough."

"That's not what I meant. But think about what he said to you, about caring for Grady. And what ended up happening, that Grady got taken in by your parents. Because of that, because of having the stability of your parents' love, he isn't going to end up like his brother."

Brenda looked at him, her brow furrowed. "In the message, he also told me to thank Momma and Daddy for being so kind to him. He really liked my parents. He told me how lucky I was to grow up with a mom and dad that loved me and took good care of me. Hell, they're still takin' care of me." She smiled ruefully.

"Is that what you were thanking them for this morning, Brenda?" She nodded.

"I thanked my Daddy yesterday, when he told me that they were taking Grady back with them. I thanked him for being such a good father, still puttin' up with my outrageous behavior at 41. And I wanted to thank my Momma too, and I did. I realize that I have been takin' them for granted, just like I do you." She sighed, a long, deep sigh, and he could tell she was fighting tears again.

"So maybe you are right, Fritz, some good came out of this. I feel closer to my Momma and Daddy now, because so many of the secrets I've kept, like livin' with you, are all out in the open. And they saw me at my most, well, to use your words, 'ruthless,' and they still love me, that's pretty amazin.' I should have thanked them years ago, Fritz. And you are right, I have to spend more time with them before it's too late. Consider that a New Year's resolution."

Brenda was silent for a moment. "I've turned it over and over in my head, and I just can't reach an answer, Fritz, and it's killin' me." Her voice became soft, so soft Fritz could barely hear her. "Am I the reason Wesley's dead? And I can't come up with an answer. I have rearranged the scenario a billion times, tried different tactics in my head, and I still don't know." More silence, and Fritz waited for her to continue. "My gut tells me this is all my fault." She looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that she was desperate for him to contradict her, but he couldn't. She needed to know the truth.

"Brenda, you and I have both been in law enforcement for a long time," he said. "And from talking to some of the older guys I work with, after they've had a few drinks and their tongues loosened, they talk about that 'one case.' The one case they couldn't solve, the victim they couldn't save, the perp who died but might have been innocent. And they always say the same thing: they are haunted by this case. It follows them around for years, always in the back of their minds, casting a shadow on their current cases." He paused, looking at her, to see if she understood what he was saying.

Brenda nodded, "yea, I've heard older cops say the same thing, about that one unresolved case that keeps them up at night, 20 years later."

"Brenda, I think Wesley is your ghost," Fritz said. "I think this case is going to haunt you, and I don't mean in a destructive, horrible way. I think that Wesley's death will, in some ways, make you better at what you do, make you question the rightness of your methods. I think it will keep you awake at nights, but I'm not sure you are ever going to figure out, like I know you want to, if your actions led to your death. Brenda, I don't think you will find the absolution you are looking for."

She looked like she was going to be sick. He put his hand on his lower back and rubbed as she stared out into nowhere. "You aren't making me feel any better, Fritz, just so you know," she said.

"I didn't know the purpose of this conversation was for you to feel better. I thought it was for us to be honest with each other."

"I know it is," she said, still blankly staring at nothing. "It's just the idea of havin' a ghost, as you call it, like those old, burned out cops I knew in DC and Atlanta, well, I find that pretty upsettin."

"OK then," Fritz said. I have another way you can look at things. Wesley's ghost can be something besides the memory of a case gone bad."

"What?"

"He can be your conscience."

At this, comprehension dawned in Brenda's dark, bloodshot eyes. She lay her head down on her knees again, and Fritz pulled her closer to him. "My conscience. I like that better. My tactic is to never look back, no matter what happens, as long as I close my case. And I don't think I can do that anymore. Not since Wesley's death." She sighed. "I guess I can live with him bein' my conscience. I probably needed to get one of those some day anyway." She smiled slightly.

They were silent for awhile, Fritz slowly rubbing Brenda's back while she resumed staring, but this time, he could tell she was lost in thought. Ten minutes went by with nothing but the sound of their combined breathing to break the stillness. Fritz finally said, "honey, what are you thinking about?"

"Christmas presents," she answered.

He smiled. "What about Christmas presents, Brenda?"

She stuck out her lower lip. "About how I never got any. Not that I was probably on Santa's 'good list' this year."

Fritz laughed. Even in the middle of heartwrenching personal crisis, Brenda could still think about presents. That's so my girl, he thought.

He stood up. "Well, I can't speak for Santa, but you were on my 'good list.'" He walked over the tree and lifted up the tree skirt and pulled out a small box out from under it. "I thought I'd wait until we were alone and were in a better space before I gave this to you." Before she could hand her the box, she had jumped up. "Oh Fritzy, I have presents for you too, just a second!" She ran to the bedroom and came back with two presents, both about the size of books but flatter, wrapped in the hideous pink Santa paper.

They both sat down on the couch. "You first," Fritz said. Brenda didn't need to be asked twice. She pulled off the bow and ripped off the wrapping in a matter of seconds, revealing a small, blue velvet jewelry box. She held it in her hand, excitement in her eyes.

"Go ahead, open it," he prodded.

She did. Inside the box were pearl and diamond earrings. A small diamond set in gold rested on top of each sizable pearl. They were striking; large enough to be noticed, but still elegant. "Oh Fritzy," Brenda gasped. "They are so beautiful."

"I thought you could wear them for our wedding," he said softly, caressing her cheek. "I wanted to get you something suitable for the stunning bride I know you are going to be."

She looked at him, fresh tears in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed him in a rib-crushing hug. "I love them so much, Fritz, they are gorgeous. And I will wear them on our weddin' day." She released him and pulled back, looking him in the eye. "And I need to say thank you too, Fritz. For bein' there for me, always. For lovin' me no matter what. And for having the courage to tell me hard things I don't want to hear, knowin' it's not gonna be easy." She put her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "I love you so much, Fritzy, so much." He put his hand in her hair and cupped her skull, pulling her closer. "I love you too. Brenda, with all of my heart."

She grinned and pulled back. "Now, before you get any ideas that require the sheddin' of clothes, you need to open your gifts." She released Fritz and sat back down. Just as he started to pick one of the presents, she got a distressed look on her face and said, "Oh."

"What's up?" Fritz asked. "Everything OK?"

Brenda chewed her lower lip. "Well, I'm a little embarrassed here. You got me these gorgeous earrings and all, which must have cost a bundle, and I didn't get you anything very expensive. I feel bad."

Fritz laughed. "Oh Brenda, with the amount of money you blew this past week, I am thrilled that you didn't spend much on me for Christmas! That's a gift in and of itself!"

Brenda looked at him abashedly. "Yea, right. OK then, go ahead and open the one with the red bow."

Fritz did as he was told. He unwrapped what turned out to be a box for a 5"x7" picture frame. He raised an eyebrow at Brenda. "Open the box,' she instructed.

Fritz slid out of the thin box a picture frame wrapped in tissue paper. When she removed the paper and got a good look at his present, he gasped.

"But Brenda, how did you…you told me…I thought this was gone!" Fritz was so stunned he couldn't finish his thought.

Brenda smiled smugly. "I lied!" She said proudly. "Oh, I know we had a big conversation about me lying and all, but this was all before that. Plus, I really wanted to surprise you, and it looks like I did." She looked very pleased with herself.

The picture was of her. Four months ago, Fritz took Brenda to Corona del Mar for the day. Brenda loved the ocean; not so much to swim in, but to walk along the edge and watch the waves. The only times he has ever seen Brenda sit quiet and still was when he took her to a beautiful coastline, and she would sit on the shore for long periods of time, silently watching the tide come in and out, as if mesmerized. At Corona del Mar, she took off her sandals and handed her oversized purse to Fritz, and waded ankle deep into the cool water. She looked so beautiful that Fritz asked her to stand still for a second so he could take a picture. He reached into her purse and quickly found her phone, which took better pictures than his. "Smile!" he said, and she did, one of her rare, stunning, knock-the-earth-off-its-axis smiles. Even from the small screen of the phone, he could tell he just snapped a masterpiece. She was wearing a pink sundress, which complemented the line of cool orange in the sky from the evening sun, making her soft creamy skin glow. Her curly hair was blowing in the wind, and her perfect body was outlined by the azure ocean. He had never seen a more beautiful picture of her; Botticelli's "Venus Rising" paled in comparison.

He couldn't stop looking at the picture on her phone the rest of the day, until she ripped it out of his hands, saying, "oh for Heaven's sake Fritz, why are you staring at that picture when you have the real thing right here?"

"I want to download that when we get home," he told her. "It is just the most amazing picture of you I've ever seen." Brenda rolled her eyes.

That night, she made excuses about why he couldn't mess around with her phone to retrieve the picture, and he didn't see her to ask again until a few days later. She looked down at her feet. "Well, see, Fritz, there's a bit of a problem, not a big one really, it's just that, I kinda lost the picture." She chewed her lip.

"You lost it?" he asked incredulously.

"Yea, I deleted it. By accident, I swear! I went to go look at it, and I hit the wrong button, and poof, it just disappeared." Brenda looked embarrassed.

"Let me see," Fritz said angrily, grabbing the phone out of her purse. Sure enough, the picture was gone. "Brenda, why is it that someone as brilliant as you can't even operate a simple cell phone? It just amazes me to no end. I loved that picture. Couldn't you have been a little more careful?" Brenda mumbled, "sorry" as he stormed off. He was so angry he didn't talk to her for the rest of the day.

Staring at the picture, enlarged so that all he found stunning about it on the cell phone screen was amplified one hundred fold, he stared at her. "You lied? So you didn't really delete it?"

"Nope," she said happily. You loved it so much I decided to give it to you for Christmas. So I asked Lieutenant Tao to help me download it and burn it on a disk, then I went to this real nice photo store near work and had it enlarged. And got the frame." The frame was simple, almost art deco in its casual elegance but was made of real silver, which seemed to call forth the sparkles on the water in the photo. Looking at Brenda in the picture almost stole Fritz's breath away.

"Thank you so much, Brenda," he said, reaching out to kiss her. "I couldn't have asked for a better present. This is definitely going on my office at work. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are."

She snorted. "Yea, so those colleagues of yours who just think I'm a bitch on wheels can see the softer side of me, huh?" They both laughed.

Fritz picked up his second gift, which was identical in size and weight as the first. He smiled. "I think I might know what this one is."

Right after he had snapped the picture of Brenda wading on the water's edge, an older couple walked by. "Would you like me to take a picture of both of you?" the man asked.

"That would be great!" answered Fritz, who quickly took off his sandals, put Brenda's bag down, and waded out to meet her. He stood behind Brenda and wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned back against him. Fritz felt happier than he could remember as the man snapped the picture of the two of them. The sun was caressing his back, the wind kissed his face, and he was holding his beloved in his arms. His happiness came through in the picture, too, as he stared at it with almost as much amazement as he did with the one of just Brenda. He looked younger and softer, and Brenda was radiating beauty. "You two are the loveliest couple I have ever seen," the older woman said. "I think you are meant to be together." She smiled at them, and she and her husband continued their walk on the beach. Fritz waded back out to Brenda and grabbed her in an embrace and kissed her long and hard. "You are my everything," he whispered in her ear, as she lay her head against his chest.

He was equally angry when he thought that picture had been deleted by Brenda's electronic incompetence too, but here it was, also more exquisite in a much larger form, and was in a slightly different silver frame. Fritz noticed that there was engraving at the bottom. "Brenda and Fritz" it read, in elegant cursive. He was grinning so broadly his face hurt. "I love it, Brenda, so much. And I am so surprised. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said, putting his arm around her, pulling her close.

She looked down at the picture of the two of them. "I liked this one so much I made two copies, so I could put one in my office," she said.

"So, your colleagues who think I'm an a$$hole can see the softer side of me?" he smirked.

They kissed again, slowly, a kiss full of promise. He was amazed how much he had missed her lips, the soft sighs she made whenever she kissed him, the sweetness of her tongue. Being angry at her was awful, he thought, because it deprived him of her, and he felt like he could live without oxygen easier than he could live without Brenda's touch. She pulled away and gently kissed his forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Brenda," he said tenderly.

Happy Boxin' Day, Fritz," she replied.


End file.
